Wednesday, October 26, 2011

little me

Today my brother posted a photo on my facebook page, it was from another page that was created for descendants of our paternal grandparents. I have been cut off from this side of my heritage, because of a divorce, and the abuse that we all endured, at the hands of my Father. One of my siblings tried to reach out to this side, however it ended when the abuse was brought up. My Father's sister did not believe us. Why would she? She doesn't even know us. But we had no pictures, no connection, nothing. That side of the family continued living on without us.

I have severe memory issues. I am sure it was my mind protecting my soul, but what I do remember is enough. More than enough. I have shoved it back into the dark corner, brought it back out. I have been angry at it, sad about it, confused, and most importantly I have been enlightened by it. But I am always surprised to be reminded that we are forever healing from the wounds we carry.

I went through this facebook page reading and searching for the people who share my blood. Aunts and Uncles and cousins, grandparents... With each photo a dim light way off in the corner would flicker, and I would think, Oh yes, that is my Aunt... I remember applesauce making in her kitchen, and how she cut the apple open from side to side, to reveal the five pointed star...

I read to my 11 year old daughter, a a couple of writings that were posted by my Grandmother. It was about where her ancestors came from. I finally had a history suitable to share with an 11 year old. As I read out loud about my great grandfather, and how he came to America from Sweden, my daughter shouted out, We are SWEDISH?" Yes, we are, just a part. Then we talked about how her great, great Grandfather lived and worked near the place and around the same time as Laura Ingalls Wilder. She had done a book report about her, so it really gave her a sense of life back then and a connection for her. She immediately asked me if she could meet one of my Aunts particularly by name. I am not sure why she picked this one name, but she did. I took a deep breath, and thought about how this was the very Aunt who disbelieved us.

I also read another writing that my Grandmother wrote. She died when I was about 7. So reading her words were like her speaking to me. She was an artist, and extremely spiritual lady, and for awhile she kept chickens and pigs. She talked about one experience in her life, her tone changed into something recognizable to me. I could tell she had this beauty in her, no matter what her son grew up to be, I was gifted with these words...

"... I’ll never forget that first evening. We were very tired, so we went to bed early. All was very quiet when through the open French windows drifted the sweetest music from a distant hillside – the song of the whip-poor-will. I’ll cherish that memory always. Another time in midsummer, nightfall was just settling down on Altona. The children and I were sitting on the soft velvet carpet in the yard. The horizon was a beautiful deep night shade. In the sky was a soft violet evening star, and the moon was clear in the sky. The tall elm beside the entry of the yard was tall and dark against the sky. Then from a distant hillside drifted the same beautiful call of the whip-poor-will. An enchanting evening it was – just one of many others through eleven wonderful years."

After, I read this, I felt a head ache coming on (weird for me) so went outside for some air and to help Rusty chop up the day's cast off vegetables from the market.  Rusty stops chopping and says, what is that? I stop and listen thinking it is probably the coyotes. He says, "I thought it was maybe a baby goat sound, but it was just a whippoorwill."


I stood staring into the night. I barely heard it. My head was raging so I came in and drank some water and took a couple of Ibuprofen and a Naproxan. I will talk more and share more, once this headache goes away. I just had to get some of this out. Perhaps it will help my head.

Here is little me, a picture I have never seen before tonight. I am in the red, white and blue bathing suit with four of my brothers and sisters, doing peace signs. One of my Aunts in the pink is smiling at us.




  1. I'm sorry to hear that you had abuse in your childhood... this is unfair, and so damaging. My wife is Swedish.

  2. No wonder I've been seeing crows.
    What a sweet smiling child.
    Wishing you peace my friend.
    xo Linda

  3. Wow, you can really seet he family resemblance with your Bro.

    I'm glad you are getting in touch with the happier memories of your family life :-)

    I listened to a Whippoorwill on youtube - lovely sound. You seem to be experiencing a lot of sychronicity lately...

  4. bitter sweet.
    and nicely written and remembered

  5. You and I are going down similar paths,I separated from my family years ago because of abuse but I feel like I am always longing to find some connection to "good" in my family history.I too search the internet looking for clues.I am glad you are finding some good things!I did discover I am Irish and Choctaw ,lol!

  6. Wishing you peace Crow. I am so sorry to hear about your abuse.
    Your grandmas words are lovely. How very moving for you to read them and see this childhood photograph.
    Hearing a Whippoorwill after reading that, that is amazing Crow.
    Hope your headache soon feels better.

  7. Thank you all. I am so fortunate that I have people out there who pause and listen. It was good to get it out, sometimes I look back the day after I write and am surprised about all that I had to say!

    My headache is gone now. :-)


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